


Tumblr Prompt Collection

by JackyM



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: (of all kinds), Carlos is a Good husband, Cecil is a Good Husband, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyM/pseuds/JackyM
Summary: I wrote some ficlets on my Tumblr and decided to post them here, since they're on the longer side and I haven't written in a while, and I am proud of how these turned out. ;w;





	1. O: The Stars or Space

**Author's Note:**

> I used this prompt set! 
> 
> http://lifeorbeth.tumblr.com/post/123078064702/send-me-characters-and-a-letter-and-ill-write

Generally, the world is not static. The second law of thermodynamics states that the total entropy of a system will never decrease. Nothing can exist without deteriorating over time, sinking into a chaotic mess of disordered matter. 

Billions and billions of lightyears away, stars were coming to life and dying at the same time. The night sky was never the same every night. Asteroids, flashes of light signaling a long-gone star, distant planets that blinked in and out of existence were what made space exciting. 

None of that existed in the desert otherworld, but the inconsistency of space was nice to think about. 

The desert otherworld was not inconsistent. 

A world fixed in one point along an endless timeline, and a world immune to every kind of scientific law that exists, was a world worth exploring. It was not ideal; it was something beyond that. Superideal was not what this world was, but it was the word Carlos had given it. For right now.

It was worth noting Carlos meant “superideal” in terms of science. Not chemistry, not physics. Science. Certainly not chemistry, or physics, or his current emotional state. 

Kevin just scoffed at that. 

It was probably a scoff, anyways. Unlike most verbal cues designated to a particular bemused response, Kevin’s was pointedly sharp, elevated, and dismissive and made Carlos think of clotted blood seizing up over an open wound. 

For a moment, he stopped trying to count all the stars, something he could feasibly do in a world stuck in this mutated equilibrium. He wanted to say something to Kevin, but decided against it. 

He looked at the stars, stuck in place like the glow in the dark stars he put on the bedroom ceiling back in a place he wasn’t going to start thinking about now. 

“I’d appreciate it,” came a voice thick with joyousness, “if you wouldn’t drop a conversation with me just because I don’t agree with you! We were having a great conversation up until then.”

“No, no, um, it wasn’t you,” Carlos tried to say, but stammered, “I just got distracted, that’s all.”

“ _Ummmmmm_ ,” Kevin strung the verbal filler out like a dysfunctional IV drip in the world’s worst hospital, “Carlos, we’ve been  _over_  this. Don’t use words like that. They just don’t make you sound professional. And neither does getting distracted.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Are you? You always get distracted.”

“Sorry…it’s not you, it’s just that I–”

“Don’t say sorry over and over,” Kevin cut in, “unless you actually want to change anything. You’re a beautiful,  _talented_ scientist, Carlos. I’d just hate to see you spend the rest of your life getting distracted all the time. Then nothing would  _ever_ get done. You’d spend your whole life wriggling in the dirt like an earthworm too unproductive to get devoured.”

“Is that a simile or something related to your religion? Because I told you I wasn’t sure how I–”

“It can be both, Carlos, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t interrupt me like that. I’m not attacking you. There’s no need to get defensive.”

“Sorry.”

Brief silence.

And then a low noise of annoyance that made Carlos quiver, but he tried not to let his body betray his recoil at whatever that sound was. 

“Tell me something,” said Kevin, suddenly, cheerfully, “you said that the constellations change here every night?”

“I um, did not say exactly that, but yes.”

“And also that this otherworld is static?”

“Stuck in some kind of extreme equilibrium, but, also yes.”

“So how can the constellations change every night?”

Cecil had asked Carlos the same thing…he didn’t know when. He really, really didn’t. He thought of how Cecil had asked it, genuinely curious, genuinely wanting to hear it, and how Kevin was asking for the same reason. Part of being a scientist meant explaining science to everyone who wanted to learn about it. This included people who felt science was useful in terms of productivity, the only terms worth talking about. 

Not to mention, Carlos really wanted to talk about space and stars and answer that exact question a hundred times over. He loved talking about it, and his love for the subject overpowered how uncomfortable he felt discussing his passions around Kevin, by a long shot. 

“I think that the number of stars stay the same every night. So, even though the constellations are changing, the actual sky itself is not changing in any way! When new constellations form in the sky, they have the exact same position as the constellation from the previous night, and the same number of stars. I need to count all of the stars in the sky and map out the locations of the different constellations, before I can say with scientific certainty that this is the case. So far, I have only looked into the planets in the sky, and I have noticed that they do not tend to move from the constellation that they are a part of. It is similar to, but not the same, as chemical reactions. Scientifically speaking, the two have no relation to each other, but the concept is similar. Similar concepts are super important in explaining scientific events, because it really shows how integral and consistent science is in explaining things! I’m getting off track, what I meant to say was, um, in chemical reactions, the molecular or ionic composition of elements is changed, but the overall energy needs to stay the same. That is why I think that this otherworld might be some kind of extreme equilibrium! Everything has to stay the same, and nothing can deteriorate, but if there is some change that keeps the overall energy the same without burning off any excess energy as heat, it can still occur within this world! Oh, and, I think that due to the nature of this otherworld, maintaining that equilibrium might mean that processes are accelerated, which is another aspect that I think I need to look into–”

“Oh, ohhh,” said Kevin, “you want to look into that?”

“Look into what?”

“Look into why everything heals so quickly. Like phones, or countertops, or…wounds. Open wounds, full of blood…” Kevin’s words poured out in a delirious haze of what was unfortunately pleasure, “so much blood. You  _should_  look into that.”

“Into blood?”

“No,” Kevin said, in a tone that might’ve been snapping had it come from anyone else, “please, pay attention, Carlos. So perfect, and so inattentive. No, look into why things can heal so quickly. That surely is different from the stars. And surely is more productive.”

“It is, but…well, the stars are only a theory right now, Kevin. And if there is a way to test a theory, by counting them and observing them, then that is what a scientist should do.”

“Don’t you want to do something more  _productive_ , though? Carlos?”

 _Not really_ , Carlos thought, and certainly didn’t say.

“I…I suppose doing something more productive would help more people,” Carlos did say, “but I need to focus on what I am researching right now. What I am doing right now is what is most important.”

“Ah, but Carlos, focusing seems to be difficult for you…I think that maybe something  _productive_  might help. You don’t need to, of course. I’m just suggesting you do it. It might help at all, in fact. It’s a fifty-fifty shot at best. But you should definitely try to do something more productive, Carlos. There’s always a million reasons to not do something, and only one reason to do something.”

“Um…what reason is that?”

“Productivity,” chirped Kevin, “that’s the only reason to do anything.”

“Oh…um. I see.”

“Well, I’d hope you would. You’re so smart and perfect, Carlos. If you did not see the merit in what I was saying, I’d think that you’d need to give your whole profession a serious reconsideration!”

Carlos’ stomach flipped at that. 

A moment later and some cheerful exclamations about how dusty the ground was later, Kevin pulled himself off of the ground. Carlos was still sitting in the sand, looking up at thousands of glimmering faraway stars and planets. This was a whole universe, Carlos realized, one way larger than he had the ability to explore. He felt a lot of emotions towards that notion, and though many of them were related to excitement, many more of them were related to feeling lonely and hopeless. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder that refused to move when it felt flinching and uncomfortable movement. 

“Just give it some thought, Carlos. I just want you to think about it.”

“Okay,” said Carlos, still squirming, trying to subtly tell Kevin to remove his hand and failing, “I will.”

A few moments of silence. 

Carlos could hardly see it in the dark, but he knew Kevin was doing that thing with his lips and teeth. A smile? Carlos knew that intellectually, but emotionally, it was not that. Was it a smile?

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Oh, Carlos, Carlos, how considerate you are. I think I might go to bed now, since staying up late leaves you so groggy and unwilling to do hard work the next morning. Maybe you should considerate too. I’d hate to have to wake you up for the fifth time this week because you were too tired from staring up at stars the night before.”

“Once I get to the next hundred,” mumbled Carlos, looking down at his notebook full of tick marks, “I’ll get there soon.”

Carlos fixed his eyes with the sky, and continued trying to count the stars. He heard Kevin say something, but he focused on counting and not losing his place enough so that Kevin eventually sighed in defeat and wished Carlos a good night. 

Carlos did hear that. 

And he winced. 

He didn’t like hearing Kevin say that. 

Carlos looked at the sky, no longer counting the stars nestled densely into the void. Instead, he was just looking. Thinking. Missing someone. Thinking about missing someone. Thinking about missing the person he cared about more than anyone else, and how that person was not with him. 


	2. U: Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used this prompt set! 
> 
> http://lifeorbeth.tumblr.com/post/123078064702/send-me-characters-and-a-letter-and-ill-write

Carlos didn’t enjoy Cecil going out of town for a few days. He didn’t enjoy being away from Cecil for too long in general. A home was a person, not a place. And Carlos was very prone to homesickness. 

More prone, Cecil had noticed, after he returned from the desert otherworld. He’d wanted to ask why, but he didn’t. He knew it would be an uncomfortable question to ask, and for Carlos, an uncomfortable question to answer. Boundaries, he realized, he had to realize, were important. If Carlos wanted to give that uncomfortable answer, he would do so on his own.

But when he really thought about it, Carlos was definitely saying he missed Cecil more than he used to, and that worried him. He wasn’t sure why; sometimes worry was like that. He didn’t want to think about the potential reasons, but he did. The worst case scenarios that might potentially exist occupied his thoughts, and it made reporting on what was totally not an arson at a Red Mesa pizza restaurant difficult. It was weird, by the way, how pizza restaurants in, and now around, Night Vale kept going up in flames if they weren’t Big Rico’s. Weird. Weird and not at all suspicious. 

But, again, boundaries.

So he didn’t ask Carlos about his texts, or Rico about why his pizza restaurant was the only one that never burned down. 

He didn’t ask when he returned home two days later, and found himself enveloped in a tighter hug than usual from Carlos. He was someone who wasn’t prone to hugs, or the feeling of tightness. Tight hugs would not make sense for something he’d have any proclivity for. Carlos’ hug lingered for a while, and when he pulled back, he also seemed aware that the embrace had lasted longer than normal.

“Sorry,” he said, looking abashed at Cecil, “it’s just, it’s been a while.”

“Aww, bunny,” Cecil reached out and put a hand on Carlos’ cheek, “it’s only been two days!”

“I know,” said Carlos, holding Cecil’s hand on his cheek, “it just felt a lot longer than that.”

“Time is weird, especially in Night Vale.”

“I know that, also. But this felt different from how time usually passes weirdly in Night Vale. I just…really missed you, that’s all.”

“And I missed you,” Cecil said, and then paused. He studied Carlos’ face for a few moments, noticing Carlos’ delicate hands holding his own. Carlos wasn’t making eye contact, but that was normal. Something else–he wasn’t sure what–suggested tension. Not too long ago, Carlos could go weeks without talking to him.  _Weeks_. Maybe part of this was just working through the last year, and adjusting how he prioritized things. Maybe it was something more drastic, something that had Cecil worried sick over the past few hours. He couldn’t be sure. He swallowed, with an audible click, and stroked Carlos’ cheek.

“Hey,” Cecil said, voice lowering, “are you okay? You’re not, um…you’re not sick or dying, are you? You’re not…not about to leave again, or…or leave…”

Cecil’s voice trailed out, because he couldn’t begin to even say it, but his tone said it for him. He didn’t want to say it, but he needed to, before it got to him. The comment was sudden, and Carlos was visibly taken aback. 

“ _What?_ No, no, Cecil,” Carlos looked at him, his lovely brown eyes soft with concern and wide with anxiety, “nothing like that. Not even close. Why would I be doing anything like that? Why would I be dying? Ceece, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I just…I don’t know, Carlos.”

“Did I…” Carlos’ hands slackened on Cecil’s, and he was quiet for a moment before continuing, “was it me? Who made you think that?”

“No,” Cecil said quickly, but then added, “well, not really. It wasn’t you, so much as it was me. It’s just…you were telling me you missed me a lot, and I know you do, Carlos. I missed you a lot too! It was just more frequent than usual. More frequent than last year. I just…I started worrying something might be wrong with you, or me, or us, and…I’m sorry.”

“No,” Carlos squeezed Cecil’s hand, “no, no, you don’t need to apologize, Cecil. It’s okay. I’m fine. A scientist is always fine, but I don’t mean fine in that sense. I mean fine as in, physically, I am under no higher percentage of bodily fatality units than any other person is normally. Which I know when I say it out loud sounds like the same definition of the word fine, but um, I can promise that scientifically, it is definitely a different word. And Ceece, I love you. I love you so much. I won’t leave you, I promise. I love you too much to do that, or even think of it.”

“I think I knew that too. I was just worried. You had me worried, that’s all. Are you sure everything’s okay? It’s just, you usually never text me about that kind of thing that much. Not that I don’t love and appreciate hearing about science. I do. I’m very into science. It just caught me off guard.”

“Oh, well,” Carlos pulled his head away from Cecil’s hand and wrapped his arms around himself, “it’s…um, it’s just that I really missed you last year. A home is a person, and not a place, right? I just felt homesick, and, well…I wanted you to know that I felt that way. That I love you, and I love our home.”

“I love you too,” said Cecil, reaching out and holding Carlos’ hand, “and I also love our home. Is it okay if I hug you?”

Carlos nodded, and Cecil pulled him into a gentle embrace that Carlos sank into. As Carlos nestled into his wonderful radio host’s chest, he felt a decade of separation and loneliness, and the gripping sadness that accompanied it, melt away by the metric ton. 


	3. A: Fire, Flames, or Excessive Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used this prompt set! 
> 
> http://lifeorbeth.tumblr.com/post/123078064702/send-me-characters-and-a-letter-and-ill-write

“It’s too hot out to wear most of this,” grumbled Cecil, pushing through hangers in his closet, “and I seriously thought we’d into winter by now.”

“We are,” said Carlos from the bed, and still not out from under the covers, “winter is just defined by the angle at which the earth is tilted towards the sun. It has been what is called colloquially in the non-scientific community ‘winter’ for almost two weeks now.”

“What’s it called in the scientific community?”

“It is called winter, Ceece.”

“That’s…you just said the same thing.”

“No, I actually annunciated the first syllable in the scientific phrasing. That is, scientifically, how you should be saying the word. Not you, Cecil, just the general directed you that is interested in scientific phrasing. The other phrasing was coined by meteorologists, which means that it holds more religious connotations than scientific ones. It emphasizes the second syllable which is important for remembering some major holiday in February. The emphasis is on its scientific derivation that discusses how the phases of water change so dramatically this time of year. ”

“Alleged changes. It’s supposed to hit eighty degrees today. Which is  _ridiculous_.”

“They are  _not_  alleged. It was about as cold as it normally is during this time of year in Night Vale yesterday, and these kinds of temperature events occur in less frequency than any other types of strange Night Vale occurrences. I have put numbers into a calculator and looked at various numbers, Cecil. They happen less than one percent of the time.”

“One percent of the time is still too often.”

“Less than one percent, Ceece.”

“Still too often. In January. I don’t really have anything I can wear in that kind of heat. The heat, Carlos, the heat. I’m too old to sweat to death under the merciless and evil sun.”

Carlos scooted himself further under the covers to make himself more comfortable, laughing a little. 

“We don’t have to go out for breakfast if you don’t want to deal with the heat today, Ceece. I think–I do not know, I only think, because the locations of things are weird and never permanent–that I would need to go up into the attic to find a lab coat that is not specific to colder months. Especially since this is a very strange and rare sudden rise in temperatures.”

“Yeah,” Cecil bit his lip and turned to look at Carlos, “that’s another thing…I don’t think my joints would let me go up there at this time in the morning.”

“I could get whatever you needed for you!”

“Carlos,” Cecil said, smiling, softly, “last week you wore my red and yellow space parka with a regular denim skirt.”

“Yes, and I looked amazing. Is there a reason you are bringing this up?”

“I am saying my clothing choices are specific and unique and I really like choosing them out by myself. Plus, Carlos, this is a  _date_. I have to surprise you with what I’m wearing. I love rushing out of the bathroom at the last minute and surprising you with how I look. You look adorable.”

“That is very true. I love it when you do that, too. Especially when you do it in leather pants. Y’know, the really tight ones with the openings on the legs.”

Cecil walked over to the bed and sat down, nudging Carlos gently as he did so.

“They’re called lace-ups, honey.”

“Scientist. Not a fashion designer.”

Carlos watched Cecil lie down before moving closer to him and nestling into his chest and abdomen. Cecil rested his cheek on Carlos’ head, closing his eyes and, to his surprise, starting to feel them get heavy. Consarn Carlos and his contagious cuddliness and drowsiness. 

“You have a Karl Lagerfeld-designed lab coat, sir. You have a lot of designed lab coats.”

“That is different, and you know it. That is designing lab coats, which are scientific.”

“Like the post-shower-and-bedtime lab coat you have on that you have not changed out yet for some reason?”

“Well, I did not design this, but I feel like you are implying something.”

“Mmm,” mumbled Cecil, wrapping his arms around Carlos as he felt Carlos’ gently grasp his love handles, “I’m getting kind of sleepy now.”

“If you really want to go out, I will get up right now, sweetie, it’s fine” said Carlos, lifting up his head to look at Cecil. Cecil smiled and shook his head, kissing Carlos on the forehead.

“I’m more comfortable spending this morning being warm right here, actually.”


	4. C: A Moment's Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used this prompt set! 
> 
> http://lifeorbeth.tumblr.com/post/123078064702/send-me-characters-and-a-letter-and-ill-write

Cecil had managed to finally start going to the Ralph’s again, though he had issues going by himself, still. The disappearance of a problem never means the feelings associated with that problem vanish. But being able to go at all, Cecil figured, was more progress than shying away from even the parking lot when running errands. 

Carlos didn’t mind going with him, but anxiety refused to let Cecil feel as though he was being a burden and bothering Carlos. After all, did he have a reason to feel worried about auctions?

The Ralph’s had stopped selling literally everything in the same style as an auction. Firstly because less and less people were going to the Ralph’s, and secondly because five-headed dragons get really angry when they don’t win auctions and it actually ended up costing more money selling food via auctions than it produced. Having a clan, a murder, a demolition squad, or whatever a group of dragons was called, living underneath the Ralph’s costed a fortune in damages due to impromptu auctions, and Charlie Bayer had  _begrudgingly_  shifted away from them. 

This was an immense relief to Cecil, who hadn’t been able to go to the Ralph’s for what was getting close to a year. He couldn’t stand auctions. He also couldn’t stand the idea of them suddenly, out of nowhere, starting, and concerning something random that he had no control over. 

When he started seeing auctioneer paddles shoved into handbags and pockets in the produce section, Cecil suddenly felt two very intense emotions at once. One of those emotions was thankfulness that Carlos was there, no matter how much he worried he was being a source of irritation. The other emotion he felt was terror, intensely and unmitigated. 

Carlos was looking at a dragonfruit, seemingly unaware of what everyone else seemed to be carrying in one article of clothing or another. Cecil nudged Carlos with his hips, wanting to say something but ultimately not doing so at all. 

“This is  _not_  a dragonfruit,” he mumbled, turning the brilliant cyan fruit around in his hands and feeling its furry surface. Cecil bit his inner lip and nudged Carlos again, with a little more force, but not a lot. He wanted to grab Carlos by the hand and get out as soon as he could; he had lived in Night Vale long enough to know that was the only for-sure way to get out of a problem. But he had also lived long enough as a person with relationships to know that was rarely an empathetic way to get out of a problem, and he would much prefer gently getting Carlos’ attention instead of suddenly, forcibly distracting him. 

It took a while to get Carlos’ attention, like it usually did. It was something that he loved about Carlos, but right now every ticking second was making his heart race and his palms sweat. 

“ _Carlos_ ,” he finally,  _finally,_  managed, balling his fist to avoid instinctively grabbing Carlos’ shoulder, the part of the body that tended to work as an effective way to physically garner necessary attention. Why was it so difficult for him to do anything when he felt this stressed? Why did his mind and body freeze up like this, making him forsake even the most basic of physiological functions? Emotional memories were squirming towards his hippocampus at a high rate, and Cecil tried, again, to get Carlos’ attention. 

Carlos didn’t hear him at first, and he didn’t hear him at second. Though it was starting to get to Cecil, he gritted his teeth, and tried to think of another way to let Carlos know they had to leave, and soon. He didn’t want to stay and find out if there was going to be an auction, or if people were just bringing auctioneer paddles because of a sale on cereal (which happened, sometimes). He also didn’t want to stay and find out when this auction was. If it was happening at all, he didn’t want to be anywhere near it. And worse yet, it could happen any second now. Every missed chance to leave was another moment that he might have to hear about something being auctioned off, something random, something that would be given to someone else without any say in whether or not it wanted that to happen…

 _It’s just food,_ Cecil told himself, looking at just how many other people had auctioneer paddles, it’s just food.  _They can’t sell anything they don’t sell at this store._

Reassuring himself didn’t help. Logic tends to deflect off of emotions like a small percentage of particles off of gold foil, as Carlos had mentioned once. He wasn’t sure exactly what that was referring to, but it made sense and it stuck, like electrons caught by unstable atoms. Again, a process he was not total sure of the mechanics of but worked as a simile. 

Cecil looked at Carlos again, and though he regretted it, he reached for Carlos’ hand and held it, making Carlos drop the avocado he was holding. The avocado scuttled away, emotionally deflated. Carlos’ hand squirmed in Cecil’s, and Carlos looked at him, confused. 

“Sorry, sorry, just, please, Carlos,” mumbled Cecil, not at all proud of what he’d just done, and letting Carlos’ hand go, “can we please leave now?”

“How come?”

Carlos seemed genuinely perplexed, and Cecil was happy about that. So oblivious. So focused. So Carlos.

“It’s just…look at one everyone is holding.”

And Carlos did, and when he started noticing just how many people had paddles stowed away somewhere, he mouthed a silent “ohhh” and took Cecil’s hand in his own, gently, and led Cecil out of the store. In the back of his mind, Cecil was glad they hadn’t meant to get much and didn’t leave a full shopping cart in the middle of the produce section.  _God_ , he hated it when people did that. 

_So inconsiderate._

Sort of like saying you were done with auctions but then having another one, as though there weren’t people who went to the Ralph’s who couldn’t go to auctions. 

Carlos let Cecil into the car through the passenger site, and once he situated himself behind the steering wheel, he avoided Cecil’s eyes for a few moments. He still avoided his eyes when he spoke.

“I am very sorry, Cecil.”

“Sorry for what?”

Cecil knew what Carlos was apologizing for, but he asked anyways. 

“I am sorry for not noticing you earlier, Cecil. Or even for not noticing how everyone in there was carrying…y’know. I am really sorry for not  _noticing,_ generally speaking. Scientists are supposed to notice. That is a big part of being a scientist, and science itself. The smallest things need to be noticed in order to completely, scientifically understand and event. I really don’t understand why I did not notice how everyone had those, or did not notice you. Maybe I’m just…”

Carlos didn’t finish, and Cecil knew what he was going to say.

“Maybe,” Cecil said, keeping his eyes on Carlos, “because you were focused on other things? You’re the scientist, so maybe you have a better understanding of science and its nuances, but…focus is just as important as the noticing of small details, right? You can’t focus intensely on more than one thing at once. That’s science. I don’t know a lot of things, but I know that, at least, is true.”

“This is  _not_  about me, Cecil,” muttered Carlos, miserably, and not taking his eyes off of where they were fixed on his hands. 

Cecil didn’t know how to feel.

This was all his fault, but Carlos was blaming himself. If he just never asked Carlos to come, then he could’ve left on his own. But instead he’d just made everything worse. 

“It’s not…” Cecil somehow, despite his ability with words, struggled to find them, “not…not your fault, Carlos. It’s mine. It is completely mine. I shouldn’t have made you come with me.”

“You didn’t make me come, Cecil. I wanted to. Making me come implies I had no say in the matter, Cecil, and I had a lot of say in it. I recommended coming with you, Cecil, because I  _wanted_  to. I promise, none of this is ‘on you’, as they say in the scientific community when blaming someone else for a sudden chemical fire. It is  _not_ your fault.”

A few moments of silence. 

“Well…none of this was yours, either. Carlos, if you weren’t getting really focused on small things you find interesting, then I’d be very worried, because then you wouldn’t be acting like yourself.”

“Thank you, but…but Cecil, I really am more worried about you. Much more worried. As in, a statistically significant increase in worry towards you. That is what ‘much more’ means. Scientifically.”

“I mean, we left. It’s not like any auctions started. I was just…worried. I know I had no reason to be, but I don’t want to be around, let alone  _in_ , an auction once it starts. Seeing the paddles is enough to make me want to leave. I don’t know. Being away from the situation really makes me feel ridiculous. I’m sorry for grabbing you like that. I just needed to leave. Before things…got worse.”

“No,” Carlos shook his head, and finally looked at Cecil, his eyes warm and brown and emotional, “it’s okay, poot. I understand. I really, really understand. You…you can do that kind of thing if you really need to leave a place. Temporary discomfort to avoid longer-than-temporary agony is an okay thing to feel.”

“Thanks. Just, um, I think you might need to handle the shopping on your own again. Just…just in case this happens again. I can’t…deal with this every week. Or every month. Or at all.”

“Already on top of that, Ceece.”

“You on top of something? That’s  _funny_ , Carlos. For  _scientific_  reasons, I mean. Like,  _scientific_  ones, the really  _scientific_  ones. You know what I mean, right? I don’t mean like, normally, with the normal things you do, because you’re always on top of those things. I mean the  _scientific_ things.”

“I knew what you meant, yes,” said Carlos, tilting his head to one side and smiling, “I,  _scientifically_ , knew  _exactly_  what you meant.”

Cecil was going to reply, but Carlos gently placed his hands on his cheeks, and pulled him into a kiss. Delicate, but firm, and smooth. Cecil sunk into the kiss, enjoying the feel of Carlos’ lips and tongue politely molding with his own. 

For a moment, a brief, happy moment, Cecil felt everything melt away and condense into a single gentle and meaningful kiss. Everything became the kiss he was sharing with Carlos, and he let himself enjoy this kiss, enjoy his love, and this moment. 


End file.
